


A Christmas of Requirement

by duplicity, Ellionne, epanouiii, Hela06, NeuroWriter14, Opinion8ted, Sakuragane_San, Snowy_Rain, sonderwrites, TheLadyGia, TomarryHereWeWhoaAgain



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas, Do not repost, Each chapter had a different author, Like a million authors, M/M, Room of Requirement, We apologize for any plot holes, not heavily edited, plays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28374465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duplicity/pseuds/duplicity, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellionne/pseuds/Ellionne, https://archiveofourown.org/users/epanouiii/pseuds/epanouiii, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hela06/pseuds/Hela06, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeuroWriter14/pseuds/NeuroWriter14, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opinion8ted/pseuds/Opinion8ted, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakuragane_San/pseuds/Sakuragane_San, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowy_Rain/pseuds/Snowy_Rain, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonderwrites/pseuds/sonderwrites, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyGia/pseuds/TheLadyGia, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomarryHereWeWhoaAgain/pseuds/TomarryHereWeWhoaAgain
Summary: Prompt: Same time AU where Harry and Tom are in Hogwarts together. The two of them have a friendly rivalry even though their interests are vastly different. Tom's more academic and Harry's more jock. Later years in Hogwarts, they start flirting around each other, and Tom, who has problems saying what he wants, decides to show Harry by putting together a Christmas surprise for Harry in the Room of Requirement.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 26
Kudos: 163
Collections: Harry Potter, The Room of Requirement's 2020 Holiday Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is the brainchild of the [Room of Requirement Discord](https://discord.gg/W55phXS) and our Round Robin event. 
> 
> For this event, each author was given two days to write their portion of the story. Everyone was only permitted to read the portion directly before their own. This story was the result!
> 
> We hope you enjoy and feel free to come join us if you haven't already!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by [duplicity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/duplicity).

History of Magic was both a curse and a blessing rolled into one. For Harry and Ron, it was essentially a free period where they could do whatever they liked. 

Now, Harry did _try_ to plan his time out productively—he brought homework with him, and sometimes he even laid it out on his desk. It was just that once he was there in the classroom, listening to Binns drone on in the background like his voice was a physical embodiment of the Sleeping Draught, it was suddenly much more appealing to, say, play a game of Exploding Snap with Ron.

So it was on one such dreary Thursday morning in the month of December that Harry trudged into Binns’ classroom, intent on passing the time away by taking a really nice nap. Even the discomfort of the wooden surface would not deter him from his goal.

Besides, it was a review session today, one of their last few classes before the term ended and they left Hogwarts for the winter holidays. Harry wouldn’t miss anything too important. Nothing that could not be learned from Hermione’s meticulous note-taking, at any rate.

“Sometimes I forget why I agreed to take this class,” Ron said as they settled into their seats.

Harry pulled out his textbook and set it on the desk with a thump. If he flattened his scarf out on top of it, it would make a decent pillow. He’d seen Seamus do it a few times. How bad could it be?

“I do believe,” Hermione responded, her voice unfairly bright and cheerful for the horrid hour and the downright atrocious weather, “you thought this class would be an easier O than attempting to suffer another year of Divination.”

“No, no,” Ron said, “that’s not it. I can’t have cared about my marks that much. It’s bloody freezing here, Hermione. And now we’ve got to sit through two hours of torture on top of that.”

Harry made a half-hearted sound of agreement so his presence was noted, then began to tug his scarf out from where it was tucked in around his neck. This had the unfortunate side effect of making him very cold; the removal of his scarf exposed his neck and let a lot of the stored heat rush out.

Harry chalked it up as the cost of a good nap and plopped his scarf down atop of his history textbook.

Hermione gazed at it disapprovingly. “You’re not going to _sleep,_ are you?”

“No,” Ron deadpanned, “Harry’s worried his book is feeling a tad chilly.”

“If you’re so cold, then do something about it!” Hermione said. “Are you a wizard or not?”

“This is a _school!_ You’d think they’d at least try and keep us from freezing to death on our own before you expect _me_ to do something about it.”

Harry could barely keep his eyes open at this point. He wished that Ron and Hermione would tone their bickering down a little. Their weird flirting was not the lulling cadence of Binns’ boring review lecture, and therefore Harry did not want to hear it.

“I’m gonna nap now,” Harry announced, hoping that they would take the hint and shut up.

Hermione blew out a huff of air, then reached for her ink and quill. Harry had to admire her persistence, even if it was barmy. Ron, on the other hand, was eyeing Harry’s scarf-and-book conglomeration with interest.

“D’you think it’s comfortable?”

“If you’re asking me,” Hermione remarked haughtily, “my answer is _no._ In fact, I think that Harry will probably wake with a horrible cramp in his neck.”

Harry thunked his head down and closed his eyes. He hoped it went without saying that he did not want to be disturbed.

Harry woke to Ron’s elbow jabbing into his side. It startled him—his immediate reaction was to smack Ron in retaliation. Ron smacked him in return, but it was half-hearted.

“For goodness sake, Harry. Class is over.” That was Hermione’s voice berating him, surely.

Harry sat up and rubbed at his face, sliding his hand underneath the frame of his glasses so he could clear his vision. Yes, Binns had floated away from his podium to do… whatever it was that he did when he was not teaching. Harry wasn’t sure, actually, and he was rather afraid of the answer. It was the same fear he had whenever he was reminded that yes, the professors of Hogwarts had lives outside of the classroom, and sometimes those lives involved normal things like going to the shops and having families.

Personally, Harry preferred to think of some of his professors—Professor Snape, for one—as entities that only existed within these castle walls. It was a lot easier than having to hear from his mum that she would be inviting ‘Severus’ over for Christmas.

As he stood up, Harry noted that most of the classroom was already empty. Not that it was a full class to begin with—not many people felt taking the History of Magic NEWT with Professor Binns was a particularly great academic choice. Most of the students here were either Ravenclaws, who enjoyed the subject if not the professor, or overachievers like Hermione, who wanted to take everything that Hogwarts had to offer.

Speaking of overachievers…

Harry chanced a glance to the far side of the classroom. Hermione sat near the back with him and Ron, but sometimes she would go sit at the very front row—a row that typically hosted one Hogwarts student in particular.

Tom Riddle, Head Boy this year to match Hermione’s title of Head Girl. Riddle was the only student who could match Hermione on an intellectual level. The two of them were well known for going at each other’s throats when it came to exam season. Ron liked to crack jokes about it. In private, most of it was teasing directed at Hermione, but in public was another story entirely—Ron tended to play fast and loose with his derisive remarks about Riddle’s character.

Lately, though, things had changed. Hermione was no longer the only one to challenge Riddle in class. Harry found _himself_ speaking up more than usual, prompting debates about the most obscure topics—for once, he was the person asking questions and poking holes.

But only when Riddle was there to see it happen. 

Harry _did_ have opinions on things. He wasn’t an idiot who just sat in class like a flobberworm. He’d just never been inclined to speak on his opinions before. For the longest time, Defense Against the Dark Arts had been the only class where he’d ever bothered to raise his hand for anything. It was the only class where he was interested in the topic and felt confident enough to speak on the subject.

Since the start of the school year, however, Harry had gotten himself tangled up into some… something. He could not quite recall how he had wound up in his current situation. An off-handed comment made by Riddle that had rubbed him the wrong way, maybe? Certainly _something_ had prompted him to forgo his typical passive behaviour, and now he was stuck in a complicated rivalry with Tom Riddle.

Harry had never spent more time in the library than he had this year, looking up obscure facts in strange books in an attempt to prove Riddle wrong. Such was his determination that even now, there was an irritating voice in the back of his head that wondered if Riddle was judging him for sleeping in class.

As if his thoughts had been broadcasted aloud, Riddle caught his gaze, holding it, and raised a single brow in Harry’s direction. It was not a judgemental look; rather, it felt almost like an acknowledgment. The eye contact did not last long—Riddle quirked the corner of his mouth up in what could have been a smirk, then strode out of the classroom, his robes flapping dramatically behind him.

Harry pondered over the meaning of this interaction for longer than was really necessary, replaying the image of Riddle’s face smirking—smiling?—at him, then jumped when Ron jabbed him in the forearm with a finger, effectively snapping him out of his preoccupations.

“Are we leaving?”

“Yes,” Harry replied automatically. He scooped up his scarf and book, dumping them both into his bag. “Let’s go.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by [Hela06](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hela06).

Two days later, Harry and Hermione were sitting in herbology, waiting for Professor Sprout to make an announcement. It must have been important since some younger and older students of all houses had joined them. Everyone was clueless, even the Hufflepuffs, but Harry had a bad feeling. Ever since this morning, when the boy had been unable to stomach his treacle tart, and Riddle had smirked at him while walking out of the Great Hall, Harry knew that this day would bring forth no good news. 

Speaking of Riddle, the Head Boy was sitting two tables away from Harry and was reading what appeared to be Yule: Rituals and Lore, the book Harry had been waiting to be returned to the library since forever. It was by far  _ the  _ most reliable book on Yule traditions that could be found at Hogwarts. Last year, Riddle had started a heated debate with Hemione about the Wiccan holidays and how they should be spent. What he had said had been so interesting, Harry had taken care to inform himself about, as some people had started calling it, The Wheel of the Year and the Sabbats. 

Slightly flustered - he was not thinking about the bastard’s concentrated face - and bored, the young Potter sprung up on his feet and strode towards Riddle’s seat with determination. He put his right hand next to the book and leaned slightly towards the other boy. 

“Hey, Riddle,” He started, “When are you going to give this book back to the library?”

“Hello,  _ Harry, _ ” Riddle always put an emphasis on Harry’s name, probably to infuriate him. “I will return the book when I finish reading it. You know, as one does with library books.” 

Harry had gotten used to Riddle’s mocking words a few weeks after the start of their rivalry, thus he was able to ignore them and continued. 

“I’ve been waiting for this book to be returned for three weeks! You’re not the only one who wants to learn about this.” Harry leaned even closer towards Riddle and allowed the corner of his mouth to lift up and form a half-smile. “Maybe we can come to an agreement?” 

This was bound to interest the Slytherin, whose eyes were now fixed on Harry’s while he was pondering the offer. When he reached a conclusion, 

“Very well, Harry, I want you to-” Riddle was cut off by Professor Sprout finally calling for their attention. Riddle moved the empty seat next to him. “Sit here, I will tell you what I want after the professor finishes her speech.”

Harry was the only one still standing, and promptly sat down. Hermione looked at him with a questioning glance to which he could not answer as he had no idea what was going on.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Harry regretted getting out of his bed this morning. Of all the ridiculous ideas their teacher could have had after meeting her predecessor, she had to settle on a damn play? 

“To avoid the disastrous outcome of Professor Beery’s attempt, there shall be two plays. One where all the actors will be boys, and another one where all the actors will be girls. 

I decided to use muggle pieces for this, but do not worry for there will be magic in the stories. 

The girls will reenact Snow White’s story, and the boys will have to play Cinderella. 

Do not worry if you don’t know these stories, I’m sure your muggle raised classmates will be more than happy to explain them. I will also make sure to thoroughly go through each script with the two teams. 

You can sign up for a role in my office during the next ten days. We’ll also need some people on backstage, talk to me if you’re interested in it.

Don’t hesitate to ask for clarifications during my office hours, and please forward any concern to me!” 

Harry sighed with relief, he would avoid this issue and not participate. He turned towards Riddle who looked somewhat gleeful, like a cat who had just caught a mouse. The two of them walked out of the greenhouse, since the sixth years were the ones to have a class there, and walked towards Hogwarts while continuing their conversation.

“Sign-up to be Cinderella, and I’ll allow you to have the book”. 

“W-what?” Harry gaped, dumbfounded. 

“Asking you to be one of her step-sisters would have been more humorous, but I know someone like you would want to be a leading role, and I decided to take your wishes into account, Harry.” 

And the bastard was smirking again. Harry almost exploded at that moment but he reigned his temper in and nodded. 

He watched as Riddle stopped walking and stretched out his hand, waiting for Harry to seal their deal. 

Harry was grinding his teeth and glared at Riddle’s outstretched hand while contemplating leaving altogether. He did not care about that book to the point of accepting this. And yet, something - probably his pride - kept him there and he could only watch his own hand advancing towards Riddle’s and shaking it while he spoke. 

“Fine. I’ll do it, now give me the book.” 

Tom’s ensuing smile showed off the boy’s perfectly white teeth. He used his hand, warm and still holding Harry’s, to tug the Gryffindor closer. He leaned closer and spoke the next words right next to Harry’s ear.

“Oh, but we’re partners, Harry, you must call me Tom.” 

_ Was it even possible to know someone was smirking just by hearing their voice? And was it even possible for anyone to smirk that much? _ Harry was doing his utmost not to think about Riddle’s mouth next to his ear, and how the hot puffs of air were making his cheeks redden. 

Snatching his hand away from Riddle’s vicious grip, Harry pushed him away. He stretched out his hand again, palm-up this time, and answered. 

“Give me the fucking book, Tom.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by [Ellionne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellionne/pseuds/Ellionne).

Riddle had the audacity to laugh in Harry’s face and take a step around his outstretched hand to invade his personal space again. Harry had to look up, and up, and needed to put his head back just so he could uphold his glare. 

“Oh but  _ darling _ , that’s not how it works. Don’t you know?” 

It was in moments like these - as the tall tosser bent down, bringing their faces close enough together for Harry to see his flushed reflection in Riddle’s eyes all while dwarfing him with his stature - in which Harry hated the petite frame that allowed him to be the best seeker Hogwarts had seen in ages. 

“First, you’ll sign up for the role. And when it’s official,  _ then _ I’ll hand over the book. Can’t have you just bow out last minute, can we now?” 

Any other day, Harry would have been put out by the implication he would back out of an agreement but truth to be told - the thought had occurred to him. At least  _ before _ Riddle had murmured with his deep voice directly into Harry’s ear or stood as close as he did now. Had the other always been so captivating? Dazed, Harry watched as Riddle stood back up, winked at him, and left for the castle, leaving Harry behind.

Harry needed a few seconds to catch himself following Riddle with his eyes. 

But as he did, he knew his flushed face had nothing to do with the cold.

Riddle wanted him to sign up as Cinderella in Sprout’s boys-only school play, of all things? He aimed for Harry to be humiliated, for sure. There was no way he could get out of this with his dignity intact with all the dancing scenes the play would require. Why had Sprout to assign them  _ Cinderella _ instead of the girls-only  _ Snow White _ ? Harry would have been able to pull off sleeping through the play just fine. 

And- oh Merlin. With how vain and self-centered Malfoy was, he would probably demand the role of the prince just on principle. Harry let his face fall into his hands and suffered through a silent minute. There would be nothing worse than  _ Malfoy  _ as the prince to his Cinderella 

No. He wouldn’t subject himself to such a humiliation. 

Reading  _ Yule: Rituals and Lore  _ wasn’t that important anyway. He would just ask Hermione about what he wanted to know.

* * *

As it turned out - he couldn’t just ask Hermione. 

Ron had been  _ demanding _ her help with some homework again, just to be ungrateful as her help didn’t equal letting him copy her essays. So she had decided to not help with any questions that could be answered by reading a book for the remainder of the year. 

No matter who asked - or if the book was available.

Their permanent squabbles would someday be the death of Harry. Why didn’t they just kiss and make up already? They were pining after each other and dancing around for years now, it was almost embarrassing to watch. Ridiculous that the cleverest witch of their age and the most strategic mind Harry had ever met weren’t able to figure out their mutual crush. 

At least Harry had some common sense. Their group would be lost otherwise. 

As much as he tried, his musings weren’t enough to distract him from the sheet hanging in front of him. If he did it - if he really signed up as Cinderella - everyone would assume he  _ wanted  _ to play Cinderella. He could almost hear the good-natured teasing of his friends already. 

But the worst part would be that probably all of his peers would come to watch him. Being the youngest seeker in a century, having in all his seven years not once lost a single game… he was something of a small celebrity at Hogwarts. As much as he might detest it, especially after incidents like the love-potion spiked chocolate last year. The only good thing about it had been witnessing always calm Riddle going feral on the fourth-year girl that had tried to ensnare Harry with her attempt. He couldn’t decide if he had enjoyed Ridde’s or  _ Snape’s _ reaction more. The old dungeon bat had looked positively murderous that someone had seriously tried to drug anyone with his beloved potions. Even if the victim would have been Harry. Backstabbing lot they might be, Slytherin’s seemed to have at least  _ some  _ moral - Ron had been shocked.

Professor Sprout coughed discreetly and Harry sighed. Needs must do, no matter how much of a fool he would make out of himself - it was his last year and it was almost over. Before he could talk himself out of it, he signed up in his messy scrawl. He nodded his smiling Professor goodbye and left her office fully intending to find a corner to hide in as he ran into a bunch of girls. 

Oh no.

* * *

Sitting at dinner, Harry tried to ignore the whispering around him. It was supposed to be kept quiet who had signed up for the play before the final decisions of the roles were made, so naturally, the whole school knew already about Harry signing up for the princess role. He strongly suspected the giggling lot further down the table, which was the same one seeing him leaving after signing up.

At least the rumours were just excited and not making fun of him - for now at least. 

Harry tried to look unaffected by staring blankly ahead while he waited for dessert and ended up looking directly into Riddle’s amused eyes. So the tosser knew about it already. 

In a childish gesture, Harry stuck out his tongue at him and was surprised - just as everyone else who happened to witness it - as Riddle threw his head back and laughed out loud for a brief moment.

It left Harry staring openmouthed and he felt his cheeks burning as Riddle looked back to him before Harry was able to turn away. Riddle smirked and winked smugly before he went back to his conversation.

If Harry stabbed his freshly appeared treacle tart with more force than strictly necessary it was nobody's business but his own. He finished quickly and made his way out of the Great Hall and up the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower as he heard his name called.

He stopped on instinct but with Riddle approaching him leisurely, he was tempted to turn around and make a run for his common room. Judging the quirked eyebrow and teasing smirk, Riddle dared him to do it though, so Harry remained standing. Maybe a bit pouting.

“What do you want?”

“Such hostility,  _ Harry _ . Here I am, just wishing to fulfill my part of our deal.”

Sure enough, Riddle had the book in his hand.

Suspect.

“You said I would get it after the deadline for signing up was over.”

The smile Riddle wore was almost patronizing. Harry hated it.

“Please. The whole school is talking about your participation. You would never back out now.”

“Fine.” While Harry appreciated that Riddle knew him enough to make a valid assumption of his character he wouldn’t have been sore if it would have been anything else or at least not as a means to bully him. “Hand it over then, Riddle.”

Instead of doing as he was told, Riddle just raised his eyebrow again and waited.

Harry knew if he tried to out-stubborn him, they would be standing here till curfew and as Headboy, Riddle had the advantage.

“Would you please hand it over,  _ Tom _ ?” 

It felt weird calling the other by his given name. But the astoundingly genuine smile he got in response was almost worth the hassle of the whole situation.

“But of course,  _ Harry _ . All you had to do was to ask.”

Harry snatched the book from Rid-  _ Tom, before the other boy could decide otherwise or before his own mouth, _ would run away from him - as usual. He wanted to turn away without so much as a goodbye as he noticed some parchment sticking out of the book.

“What’s this?”

Tom, who was already retreating in the direction of the dungeons, just waved casually over his shoulder without looking back. “Just some bookmark from my research earlier, ignore it.”

Curious, Harry opened the book at the marked page to find the Chapter  _ Yuletide: Courtship Customs. _

What the hell?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by [VulpineCacoethes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VulpineCacoethes).

“How’s the book?” Hermione asked with the distrustful air of someone who’d been friends with Ron and Harry for too long. Harry looked up from  _ Yule: Rituals and Lore _ with a sheepish smile. 

“Good,” he said. 

“Good?” Hermione asked, her eyes squinting towards him as if he was a puzzle she was struggling to solve. 

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “If Binns taught history like this, I might actually like the class.” 

Ron snorted. “Sure Harry. You just like it because Riddle did.” 

Harry scowled at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He shook his head. “Anyway, you’re wrong. Did you know that Yule is traditionally practiced with a feast that lasts for twelve days?” 

Ron snorted. “No one’s done that in at least two centuries. Well, except maybe for the Blacks, but they’re as crazy as they come.” 

“I’d get sick of it by the third day,” Hermione said. 

“That’s why people stopped,” Ron agreed. “But don’t lie, you’d get sick after the third hour.” 

Harry cut his laugh short at Hermione’s glare and rushed to continue before she started berating them. “It’s all centered around the solstice. Especially the burning of the Yule log.” 

“Of course, Harry. Practically all wizarding traditions have to do with celestial bodies,” Hermione rolled her eyes at the stupidity of wizardkind. 

“For good reason,” Ron said. “Planetary alignment can really impact a lot of magics. Especially ones like potions or runes.” 

“It’s dumb!” Hermione exclaimed. “I mean, I get the moon, because of the tides and the fact that our bodies are made mostly of water, but Venus? I mean, some planets are so far away that it took centuries for people to be able to see them-millennia if we’re talking all of human history-and wizards think that those planets affect the number of stirs you need to brew the drought of peace?” 

Ron made that face that said Hermione had stepped too hard on wizard traditions, and Harry sighed as he and Hermione devolved into another argument. His eyes drifted from them, and he caught the gaze of Ginny, who was sitting across the common room not doing her homework. She waved him over, and Harry was quick to abandon his quarreling best friends. 

“Hey, Harry,” she greeted him. “What are they arguing about this time?” 

“Planets and how they affect magic,” Harry sighed and dropped himself into the chair across from her. 

Ginny laughed. “How’d they get on that topic?” 

“I’m reading this book about Yule,” Harry said. “It’s all about the solstice, apparently, and…” 

“Oh, that book Riddle gave you!” Ginny said. 

“How’d you know Tom gave me a book?” Harry frowned at her. Ginny flapped a careless hand. 

“Word travels fast in Hogwarts,” she said. “So is it any good?” 

“Yeah, surprisingly. I thought it’d be boring like our textbooks. During the twelve nights of feasting, there’s all sorts of traditions for various purposes, but most of them are about, well, courting.” 

“Oh?” Ginny looked intrigued-and strangely elated-with her bright eyes and the upwards twist of her mouth.

“Actually, did you know that Tom bookmarked the chapter on courting customs?” 

Ginny’s eyes widened. “Really,” she said, her voice lowering and head moving forward to hear what Harry had to say. 

“Yeah. I think he must want to court someone this year. Probably Daphne Greengrass,” Harry said. Ginny’s face twisted strangely, almost like she was in pain. 

“Daphne… Greengrass,” she echoed. 

“Who else could it be?” Harry asked. “She’s near the top of our year, she’s a Slytherin, and she’s a pureblood. What more could Tom want?” 

“You call him Tom, now,” Ginny said, and it was almost a plea. 

“He asked me to. It was pretty strange, but then Tom’s pretty strange, so,” Harry shrugged, and Ginny sighed like Hermione did when Ron was being particularly obtuse.

* * *

Harry strode up to where Tom was sitting with his friends at their favorite table in the library. Tom noticed him almost as soon as Harry entered the library, but his face was expressionless. It only made Harry more furious, and he could feel his scowl deepening and his hands clenching into tighter fists as he got closer to Tom. 

Tom’s friends quieted as they noticed Harry. All of them turned to look at him, their eyes dancing between Harry and Tom. Tom, however, didn’t look bothered in the slightest. Harry’s chest was tight with how strong his anger was, and he couldn’t possibly contain it any longer. 

“What sort of game are you playing?” Harry hissed, and stopped right in front of Tom, who hardly had to tilt his head at all to look at Harry’s face, the bastard. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Tom said, his tone intensely neutral. 

“The school play,” Harry grit out. At Tom’s blank look, he elaborated: “You’re Cinderella’s prince.” 

Still nothing. “You got me to play Cinderella, and now you’re the prince? What sort of game are you playing, Tom?” 

“Headmaster Dumbledore told us how important it is for students to participate in the school-“ 

“That’s bullshit,” Harry cut Tom off, a little too loud for the library. “You just want to…” 

“What, Harry?” Tom asked, and the neutrality slipped off of his face in favor of that expression he always got when he thought he was winning. “What do I want to do?” 

“Be better than me,” Harry finished, and the words sounded even more pathetic spoken out loud. Tom’s smile widened to show the teeth he’d straightened and whitened in their first year, and Harry found himself rising up. “But you’ll see. I’ll be a better Cinderella than your Prince Charming could ever be.” 

The taunt didn’t make sense, even to him, but Tom’s smile turned sharp. “Oh? You can’t lie to save your life. What makes you think that you’ll be able to be a good actor? Let alone one better than me.” 

“A wager, then,” Harry said, because what was a more perfect way to not only humiliate Tom in front of the entire school but also get him back for making him sign up for the play in the first place? 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by [TomarryHereWeGoAgain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomarryHereWeWhoaAgain).

"A wager?" Tom's smile remained wide, one arched brow ticking further up in a deliberate show of surprise. He was far too pleased for Harry's comfort, but Harry wasn't one to back out of something he started.

Thus, in a move so painfully Tom with a hint of Malfoy, Harry replied, "Did I stutter?"

Tom set down his quill and rested his elbows on the smooth wooden table. The other Slytherins  _ (Tom's 'friends' supposedly) _ , were not even trying to hide their interest in the turn of their conversation. Tom carefully held his head on intertwined hands, "What could you possibly have that you'd think I'd want enough to wager you for?"

Harry paused, he couldn't really think of anything either but-- "So you're scared?" He said. Well. That would certainly buy some time.

Though Harry and Tom were the only ones speaking, the table still fell into a resounding sort of hush. Like the entire library was suddenly holding its breath. 

And yet, an odd hum, not unlike the sound of a student towards a back table saying, "Ooooooo."  _ (As though this were some dramatic moment in an episode of Petunia's soaps. Or a terrifying moment of peace seconds before Dudley chased down Harry after taking the chance to talk back during day school.) _ Was something Harry very clearly picked up on in the non-silence.

Harry stumbled to continue, "I mean-- well obviously you must be. If you're so confident you'll be a better Prince Charming than my Cinderella, you should have no problem taking on a wager." He hoped he didn't look as flying off the seat of his pants as he felt.

Tom's right cheek twitched slightly, and that moment alone was enough for Harry to feel this whole convoluted confrontation was worth it.

_ Anything _ to successfully annoy Tom Riddle was worth it.

"I'm not  _ scared _ , Harry. Don't be ridiculous. Of course, I'll take part in this wager, an easy win is no love lost." Harry was almost certain Tom hadn't unclenched his jaw once during his reply, but then suddenly, Tom relaxed. A genuinely horrifying sight, and continued, "Winner's choice. If your act of Cinderella outshines my Prince Charming,  _ doubtful _ , then the winner can pick anything they'd like as their winnings. The loser will have to do whatever the other says."

Harry hesitated, this didn't sound like something he should agree to. This sounded like something Hermione would be screaming at him to avoid or backtrack out of. Something Ron would be staring at him wide-eyed and shaking his head vigorously to dissuade Harry away from. Something he'd be lying in his bed until the wee hours of the morning agonizing over for the next four to eight  _ years _ .

And yet, "Fine." Was what fell out of Harry's mouth and into the stupidly manicured hands of Tom Riddle.

Tom perked up, straightening in his seat, removing his elbows from the table, and reclaiming his quill. That infuriating grin still on his face, "Fine." He replied, with a gentle tilt of his head.

" _ Good _ ," Harry spoke as the panic crept in; as the full weight of his agreeance dropped an ounce of itself onto his shoulders, yet left him reedy with immediate regret and bending like a blade of grass with a single drop of dew.

"Good," Tom mimicked, nodding his head now, mirth shining in his stupidly nice brown eyes. 

A small chorus of laughter bubbled up from the other Slytherins, pushing Harry to turn about-face and yell, "GREAT!" at the top of his lungs on his way out of the library and away from Tom's obnoxious face.

And just under the sound of Madam's Pince's loud reprimanding, Harry caught the tail end of Tom's, " _ Great _ ."

Of course, the jerk had to have the last word.

* * *

"That's it! I'm leaving!" Harry stomped out of the common room and towards his dorm. He crashed through the door like a tornado, packed a small bag of items, and rushed out once again. 

Laughter still echoed around the common room on his way through and out the portrait, Ron and Hermione's scrambling footsteps not far behind.

"Harry-- Wait!" Ron was the first to catch up to him, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him to a stop. When Harry turned to face them, Ron still wouldn't unhand him.

"Ron, let go. You've caught me; it's not like I'm going to book it." Harry bent towards him to ease the pull as Hermione fully caught up, catching her breath with her hands on her knees.

"You should ignore them, Harry-" Hermione cut in with one large breath. "-Practising is hard work, and you have the lead role in the performance. It's a lot to study and memorize, of course, you won't be perfect the first couple of times. They're just hard on you for no reason--"

Ron interrupted, "Yeah, just ignore them, mate." He released his grip and swung an arm over Harry's shoulder. Hermione huffed but stayed silent; the roll of her eyes was more fond than anything else. They continued their walk down the corridor, an aimless meandering pace.

It was almost nice at that moment, having Ron and Hermione there, walking alone in the halls of Hogwarts. Their seventh year creeping by and making way for life outside of all Harry had ever known in this world filled with magic.

"Harry," Hermione started in a lilting voice, "I can hear your boyish brooding from all the way out here. You know, in the real world." She wrapped her arm through his and gave it a little tug.

"I'm not brooding," Harry muttered, leaning all his weight onto her in retaliation.

"That's something a brooding Harry would say," Hermione replied, nonplussed and nodding her head with the grace of someone filled with sage wisdom. Ron snorted out a laugh, wincing away when Harry turned to him with a sharp glare. 

She continued, "You know, we can help you practice, Ron and I. We can go somewhere private, say the Room of Requirement? And we'll help you practice till you're comfortable with the script-"

"And till you can out badass Riddle's shit performance-" Ron interrupted once more.

"- _ And _ . So you won't have to be roped into some nonsense disaster of a commitment with Tom Riddle." Hermione finished with pursed lips and a furrowed brow. Like this was a particularly upsetting chapter in a book with no sources or references.

Harry sighed, "I'm grateful for you both, really, but I can't ask you to try and make time to help me during N.E.W.T. year. Especially for you, Hermione, being Head Girl takes up most of your days already."

"Then let  _ me _ help." All three of them stopped and turned around in sloppy unison, still linked together. 

Ginny was standing there in all her flaming red-haired glory.

Ron blinked and started, "How long have you been there?"

" _ More importantly _ ," Hermione continued, "Sixth Year Gryffindors are meant to be in Defense Against the Dark Arts right now, which begs the question why you  _ aren't _ -"

Ginny cut Hermione off with a strangled laugh, "Anyway!  _ I _ can help you practice Cinderella, Harry. I have more time than either of them, and I don't have major testing other than standards at the end of my year. It's a win-win."

Harry pondered the idea whilst the three of them argued amongst each other over where, why, and how Ginny was. It didn't seem like a bad plan, perfectly reasonable if anything.

"Sure," Harry answered. Ginny straightened up and dropped her conversation with Ron, eyes gleaming with opportunity.

"You won't regret it, Harry! Anyways, I've got to scram. I doubt the bathroom excuse will hold up this long." And then she was off like a nimbus, flying down the hall back towards the DADA room.

Hermione sighed, "Well, at least you'll be in good hands. And I will admit it's something of a relief to not worry about fitting your script practice into my schedule."

"I'm just glad I don't have to pretend to abuse or fall in love with you, mate." Ron patted Harry's back and broke their chain. "Can we stop brooding and return to the common room now?"

Harry groaned and rubbed his face, disrupting his glasses, "Do you think they've forgotten by now?"

"Of course-" Hermione nodded.

"Hell no-" Ron laughed.

Their words overlapped as they responded at the same time. Harry covered his ears, walked by them and back towards the common room, and the ridicule he was assuredly returning to.

* * *

A few days had passed with no fuss; the practice was going well with Ginny, and Harry was slowly growing used to his lines.

But it wasn't until dinner on the fifth day that things had taken a turn.

"PROFESSORS! PROFESSORS!" Colin Creevey ran through the doors of the great hall, yelling and in a panic, causing a large stir from staff and students alike. "Professors-- please come quick!  _ Ginny Weasley's body is petrified in the north wing!"  _


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by [sonderwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonderwrites).

Harry stared in shock. How does someone even  _ get  _ petrified? And why Ginny?

While the teachers went off to do whatever they’re meant to do whenever a student suddenly gets petrified, Tom walked over to Harry.

“Guess you’ve got no one to help you practice your lines now, Cinderella,” Tom said from behind Harry.

Harry slowly turned around to face him. “I- what?” Harry was stressing too much about Ginny right now to understand what Tom had just said. But when his words finally did register, he said, “You do realize I have other friends and ways of practicing, right?”

“Maybe, but you’ll be slower now. Too bad you’re not like me and haven’t memorized all of your lines yet.” Tom was smirking, of course.

“Actually, I  _ have  _ memorized them all.” A lie. How could he have memorized them all by now if he’s the  _ lead _ ? 

Tom looked disgustingly gleeful. “Oh? Have you? Then you’ve got nothing to worry about with the performance being in two weeks.”

Tom turned around again to walk off, so Harry quickly got out in his, “exactly”, before he was fully out of earshot, but of course,  _ of course,  _ Tom still managed to say  _ his _ “exactly” very last.

* * *

Harry visited Ginny in the hospital wing a few times. Her face was frozen in a look of shock, and her legs were up like she’d been sitting down. It was weird to see her here,  _ frozen _ , after she’d been full of life just before.

Between visits to the hospital wing, Harry obviously had classes, but he was also practicing lines with Ron and Hermione whenever they had free time (which wasn’t as much as Ginny had had, but it would do), and of course attending rehearsals. 

Harry, like most people, had to have his script for the rehearsals, but Tom of course, being the smug jerk he was, didn’t. Harry claimed he only had the script with him “in case”, and he tried to be as discreet as possible looking at it whenever he forgot a line. But on top of that, just to stress Harry out, Tom took every chance he got to remind him of the wager the two had, of if Harry could be a better Cinderella than Tom’s Prince Charming, or vice versa, and now Harry was in constant worry of what Tom might pick for his prize if he won, and at this point, it seemed very likely he would.

Not only was Harry dreading that, but also the actual performance night. The professor in charge of the performance had been nice enough so far to not make Tom and Harry actually kiss at the part marked on the script, but he didn’t think they’d have that option when they were actually performing. Harry was very much regretting signing up to play Cinderella, but he wouldn’t back out now, or he would never be able to live it down from Tom.

* * *

Another week passed. One week until the performance. But now of course  _ another  _ stressor had to be added to everyone’s list at Hogwarts. More students were being petrified now, and still, no one knew how or why it was happening. And Harry thought he remembered learning once that petrification was some pretty advanced dark magic, so this was definitely a matter of the highest concern. Weirdly, no one in Slytherin from any year level had been affected, but it was probably just luck and they had it coming soon, considering there hadn’t been  _ that  _ many petrifications so far, thank Merlin, and there had also only been one from Ravenclaw as well, so it was probably just random when it came to houses.

No one had been unpetrified yet though, and that meant Ginny was still in the hospital. Harry was starting to worry she may never wake up…

So now Harry was finding it harder and harder to focus on the performance, and he was wondering if it would be best to just drop out anyway because after all, the humiliation of dropping out would only last a short while if he just so happened to get petrified and never recover.

* * *

Just a few days left.

“How about we meet in the Room of Requirement afterward to discuss who won and what the winner will get?” Harry jumped when Tom said this. Bloody Tom, always sneaking up on him.

“Uh, yeah, whatever,” Harry agreed absently, just wanting Tom to leave now. He was, after all, in the middle of class and trying to  _ focus _ . “I’m kinda busy right now though, Tom, so if you wouldn’t mind…”

“Alright, I’m going, but just be prepared for what I want for my prize.” Tom was walking backwards away.

“Oh no, I think  _ you  _ should be prepared for what I’ll want for  _ my  _ prize.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“We’ll see.”

“We’ll see…”

* * *

Everyone was backstage ready. People were offering each other a “get petrified”, sort of like it was similar to ‘break a leg,’ but much, much more relevant.

Harry did not feel prepared at all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by [Opinion8ted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opinion8ted).

In the moments before Harry's big debut, he was stuck with doubt. As Gryffindor's star seeker, he's used to crowds, but he's also used to a sport that comes naturally to him, something that he took to like a duck to water. Acting…Well pretending to be something you’re not had always been more Tom’s style than Harry’s.

* * *

Before Harry went on stage, he took a moment to regret all the terrible life decisions that lead him there. He regretted his defiant streak, and how much he let Tom get to him. He regretted allowing Tom to goad him into their bet and most of all he regretted letting himself believe that going on stage and pretending to be a princess was something he was capable of. 

* * *

At least, Harry reflected, as he stumbled on his lines for the umpteenth time, the rest of the cast seemed to be well chosen. Crabbe and Goyle made excellent ugly stepsisters and Blaise brought show steeling charisma to his role of the fairy godmother. When Harry stood next to them in Cinderella rags, he did _not_ need to fake the feeling of inferiority.

* * *

In the quiet moments between scenes, when Harry finished his costume change and was anxiously awaiting his cue, he reflected on Cinderella's life and the ways in which it mirrored his own. In some ways, Hagrid was his fairy Godmother and Hogwarts was his ticket out of servitude. Harry wondered if Tom saw himself in Cinderella; if Nagini was to him what Gus Gus was to Cinderella and Hedwig or Mrs. Figg's cats were to Harry. 

Harry laughed to himself by imagining what Tom would say if he told him that technically, Dumbledore was his Fairy Godmother, before it's time for the ballroom scene.

* * *

The bright lights of the stage made Harry dizzy and helped to filter out the world. He took a moment to mentally thank Lavender Brown for taking the time to teach him how to walk in these heels and manage the weight of Cinderella's ornate and unwieldy blue dress before beginning to descend a grand staircase.

Tom, predictably, looked dazzling in his prince's outfit. Between Harry's glass slippers and Tom's handsome and only slightly amusing shoulder tassels, the costume designers really outdid themselves. 

For just a moment, they stared at each other. Harry felt his cheeks go hot as Tom's eyes, dark and intense, scan the contours of his body.

Tom took a step forward and put a hand around his waist. Harry tensed. Tom leaned in. “Relax, darling, I've got you.”

Harry rolled his eyes at Tom's self-importance but ultimately relaxed.

* * *

The dance went better than it ever did in rehearsal. Harry was so caught up in the music and the twirling he almost forgot to 'lose’ his slipper as he made his exit.

* * *

All too soon, _that_ scene arrived. The one scene that Harry has not practiced before and the only scene he has dreaded more than dancing. 

Harry felt uncomfortable and overexposed in his white wedding dress, facing a dashing Tom dressed in a deep emerald green (that was not the colour the costume designers wanted originally but as usual when Tom said jump people asked, "how high?") 

When the priest pronounced that Tom "may now kiss the bride," nerves bubbled in Harry's gut. He lifted onto the balls of his feet to place a reluctant peck on Tom's lips. However, all Harry's dreams of a quick painless kiss died a fiery death when Tom's hand came behind Harry's neck to hold him firmly in place before initiating a kiss that ultimately left Harry disorientated and stunned.

* * *

The dazzling shock and elation at the kiss quickly gave way to nerves as the play came to an end and the cast took their final bows. As much as the whole process of the production had been dizzying and nerve-racking, Harry was sad to see it end.

* * *

After the play, Harry was just getting ready to make his way to the Room of Requirements so that he and Tom can decide who was the superior actor and subsequent winner of the bet, when somebody screamed. All Harry's nerves about his acting not measuring up to Tom's were thrown out the window when Professor Sprout solemnly announced that yet another student had fallen victim to petrification. 

Who would have thought that Ginny's petrification all those weeks ago would lead to this never-ending string of petrification victims? When Harry caught sight of the bright red tie of the lifeless body, he began to wonder if the lack of Slytherin victims was a coincidence after all. He only hoped that they find a cure for the victims soon.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by [Snowy_Rain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowy_Rain).

Though the Cinderella play had been a success (mostly), the fresh news of yet another unbreathing student broke through the newly acquired cheer and undid every effort the cast exerted. Almost immediately, Hogwarts fastened the rule of ‘never travel without a group’ around the students’ bellies and the talks of another recreational event were struck down.

That, however, did  _ not  _ mean that Harry would let Tom Riddle win their bet.

As he walked underneath his invisibility cloak toward their special place in the Room of Requirement, Harry wondered whether Tom would get petrified because of his pride. Unlike him, who was bestowed by his miraculous cloak, the Slytherin had no ancient heirlooms which would hide him from dark predators, who had and  _ used  _ the ability of petrification.

He entered without a knock and came to a stop at the sight in front of him.

“You’re late,” Tom said as if he wasn’t acting so out of character by putting his atrociously perfect legs on the coffee table, casual and disheveled and— well, he had no  _ right  _ to look like that, who told him to be such a prick yet so breathtaking?

“If you hadn’t noticed, you arse, there is this creepy monster going around petrifying students,” Harry replied, not even bothering to be polite. “Like, I wouldn’t even be here normally, but I can’t let you go around thinking you’re the better of us.”

“Clearly, your glasses need replacing—or is it the thing in your skull instead? I can’t go around calling it a brain.”

_ “Prick,”  _ Harry spat, cheeks flushing. “Okay, okay. Whatever. I’m not going to react to you when you love it so much. While I’m here… be quick.”

Tom’s lips upturned a little at the edges—handsome bastard—and he finally observed proper decorum, putting his legs where they were supposed to be—below waist height and out of sight. “As my dear friend wishes. I’ve spoken to the audience; we have exactly one-third of the student body completely enamored with the play. An impressive number, as you know.”

“And?” Harry was gnashing his teeth with the need to  _ know _ —who was the better actor? Riddle, with his pretty-boy looks and undoubtedly beguiling words, was the obvious answer. Against him, Harry shone as much as coal would compared to diamonds.

Tom looked at him with an unreadable gaze. “I wonder, Harry. What are you assuming? Are you so certain that you’ve already lost our little game?”

“It’s a  _ bet,  _ and why wouldn’t I? You’re—” Too good, too good _ -looking, _ too good at  _ pretending. _ “—everyone’s  _ darling,  _ and I might be the Quidditch captain but I’m not the one people are going to choose.”

“And what if I told you that they  _ loved  _ it?”

“What?”

Tom, too tall for his own good, walked over to him and loomed over Harry’s considerable height. Harry felt minuscule so close to him, so entrenched in his personal space. His head spun with the proximity and the boy’s cologne, wafting over his face like the cool seabreeze.  _ Get away so I can think, damn it,  _ Harry thought, eyes locked with Tom’s.

“People appreciate you, Harry,” Tom spoke; and when he spoke, his words were genuine—at least when they were alone. “I’m not talented at poetry, so forgive my impudence, but you’re like the sun. Warmth, light, benevolence. People like these traits. People  _ hoard  _ these traits.”

“Stop talking,” Harry stammered and stepped away, only to get caged between Tom Riddle and the wall.

“People,” Tom continued, eyes dark,  _ “especially  _ like it when those treasured ones dress up.”

Harry’s jaw fell and his mouth gaped with the mortification. “You—Are you saying that people took my side in the bet because I  _ wore a dress?!” _

“Oh,  _ darling— _ are you  _ just  _ noticing?” The Slytherin’s lips twisted into a wolfish grin, and he couldn’t help but freeze at the sight of that unbearable expression. Unbearable because—who even knew? Harry threw that thought away into the recesses of his mind and focused on the real danger.

Oh. And getting out of this flesh cage. “Anyway,” he started weakly, pushing at Tom’s arms trapping him against the wall and avoiding that near-embrace. “I guess the bet failed. So you’re the better at acting and I only won because of audience choice? Lame. Shameful. We should never bet again.”

“Why not? I enjoyed it.  _ You  _ enjoyed it.”

“Playing fucking  _ Cinderella?  _ No, not really.”

Tom smiled again, in a less vicious but equally dangerous way. “You enjoyed  _ competing,  _ Harry. I’m sure I would have noticed, had you an ounce of affinity for theatre.”

“I am  _ insulted,  _ I’ll have you know,” Harry tried to save his dignity and escape the sheer tension packed in the room. Joking achieved that only partially. Tom was still  _ smiling,  _ that prick, as if Harry’s floundering was so fun to watch, and he found that he couldn’t stand that expression. “Stop smiling.”

“Why? You keep telling me to be more sincere. I figured I should practice it with my own  _ adored  _ rival.”

“I’m not going to fall for it again,” Harry snapped, but his face felt hot. Feverish. Was it him or was Tom crowding him to a corner again? “Stop  _ talking.  _ Stop whatever you’re  _ doing,  _ because I won’t— I won’t—”

“Do you really think I’m so easy to get rid of?” Tom asked, sounding actually curious. As if mocking Harry’s embarrassment, he stepped closer once again. “Tell me,” he said, eyes fervent. “Tell me that you hate it.”

“I—”

“Tell me you hate it when I’m close to you,” he went on. Stepping closer, he huffed, “Something easier then? Tell me you don’t like our competitions.”

“I don’t—I don’t fucking  _ not  _ like it,” Harry growled. To be honest, he loved them to death. But such a confession would completely obliterate the tenuous peace between them, so Harry kept a lid on his more reckless thoughts. Tom didn’t need his useless emotions.

“Will it help if I tell you how I feel? I don’t mind if you feel uncomfortable talking openly about it. Let me clear the air: I was unsure at first. You aren’t exactly what I would consider a suitable companion.”

Fucking  _ rude. _

“But I warmed up to you,” Tom continued. He seemed to be aware of Harry’s moods, so that meant that he was purposefully baiting him. To cleanse the confusion and uncertainty. “I realized after that you were  _ exactly  _ what I needed.  _ Whom  _ I needed. Right now, I’m not here because I want to one-up you.”

“...Then because we’re rivals?”

Tom sent him an unimpressed glare. “I’m here because I  _ like  _ you, you idiot.”

_ What the fuck? _

“You—” Okay, Harry, don’t rush. Digest it slowly like a right moron. Tom Riddle just told you that he doesn’t hate you. How does one even respond to that? To hear that someone you both admired and envied, one whom you had competed against for years without end, actually enjoyed talking to you? Betting with you? Playing along with stupid and childish games with you, hell, probably  _ for you?  _ And finally, after a long silence that necessitated a response, he said, “You don’t mean that.”

Tom Riddle, prodigy and promising star of the new generation, admitting to liking Harry’s presence? Is there anything more sacrilegious?

“I clearly do, because otherwise, I would have been busying myself with more fruitful pursuits,” Tom replied, exasperation on his tongue. “Is that so unbelievable? You’re likable, handsome, and vaguely intelligent, so you do meet my requirements at least.”

_ Vaguely  _ intelligent? What even  _ was  _ that? “Well, for someone who likes me, you’ve insulted me a great many times tonight.”

“Then let me rectify that,” Tom purred, sauntering up to him, once again way too close for comfort. ‘Right now, if you don’t mind.’”

“I—mind?” Harry choked out, trying to make sense of what Tom was trying to do. Rivals-turned-friends don’t really corner each other as often as Tom does him, do they? He was getting  _ way  _ too close— 

Wait. Replay that.

Harry’s eyes widened to platter-size and he reviewed that entire conversation from a new perspective. And suddenly, like a simultaneously ice-cold and burning-hot wave washed over him, he finally understood what the ever-loving-hell Riddle was doing.

Tom Riddle said he  _ liked _ him. He had meant as—  _ as— _

Harry ducked under Tom’s returning arm and bolted out of the door, unhearing of the bewildered shouts behind him. In the lonely, darkened corridor, his face felt aflame and permanently stained red, the memories of the encounter carved into his eyes for his viewing pleasure.

He had already decided that he would avoid Tom for the time being. Harry had to clear his mind of this—desire, this thing that didn’t belong to him. He couldn’t like Riddle back, not when he had so many admirers who were better prospects than Harry.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by [epanouiii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/epanouiii).

Harry ran through the castle for what felt like ages, down narrow corridors, and up worn stone stairs, his footsteps smacking loudly against the stone floor, all to get away from Tom. He ran as if the hounds of hell were biting at his heels, and how fitting would it be that Tom Riddle was their master? 

He could barely allow himself a moment to catch his breath. 

Back pressed against the wall, Harry held a hand to his chest as he panted harshly, his mouth seeking air as a thirsty man would water. His eyes darted around the small alcove he’d flung himself into, watching, waiting to see if Tom would pop up out of nowhere and cage Harry in his arms, whisper those sweet nothings into his ear, and kiss him. Kiss him like he could not live without it.

A joke, of course; why would he need Harry? A Quidditch captain with average grades and two friends, a desperate fool? 

These questions raced around his head, even as he pushed himself away from the wall—but not to run. He had done enough running away from Tom. Now he wanted to  _ know _ . Why the sudden interest? Why make Harry play Cinderella? Why be Prince Charming? Why kiss him like that, like he would sooner die than part from him? Why, why, why. So, instead of fleeing back to Gryffindor Tower like a  _ coward _ , Harry went to go stand by a large, glass-less window that overlooked the Black Lake.

He didn’t know how long he waited, hands gripping the window frame, head buzzing, but not long after his breathing had returned back to normal there was the faint pattering of footsteps. Tom’s footsteps. He discarded the question of why he knew the sound of them, and let his gaze fix on a distant star in the night sky.

He came to a stop a few metres behind Harry. He didn’t speak, not even as he wanted to turn around and ask Tom why he’d played all those games. And even more pressing, why Harry had enjoyed— _ was enjoying _ —them so much. Even during that moment, it was a game, a challenge, a wager to see who would break their silence first. He could feel Tom’s burning stare on his back, insisting that he turn around and lose. But, somehow, he persevered.

“Harry,” he said.

“Tom,” he said in return, forcing himself to be as motionless as the stars in the sky, and wondered when it had gotten so easy, calling him Tom and not Riddle. When his throat did not constrict around the word in hate—in desire.

“You ran away.”

Harry didn’t move. “Did you really expect me to stay?”

“I’d hoped so, yes.”

“Why?”

He felt Tom’s confusion despite not looking at him. “Why what?”

“Why go through all of that trouble just to humiliate me?”

Again, Tom lost and moved closer, his hand on Harry’s shoulders forcing them to face one another. The sight of him, all sharp angles and shadow, made Harry feel that same rush from before. His eyes were like an abyss, his mouth destruction. How far had he fallen to hear his name on those lips?

They opened.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said like he wasn’t destroying Harry’s world with a few words. “My goal was never to humiliate you.”

At that, Harry’s anger flared.

“Then what else could it be?” He snarled, that feral part of him pulling at its chains, wanting to rip into this boy as he had him. “I see you talking to your friends. I’m sure they were all in on your big plan to knock  _ Harry Potter _ down a few pegs. You probably enjoyed telling them how easy I was—they probably enjoyed listening. Everyone enjoys listening to you, don’t they? It’s how you get away with all of these…these  _ games! _ You have played with my life for far too long, Tom.”

His voice was worn thin by the end, his breath coming out harshly. It fogged between them, and through it, Harry saw Tom’s eyes flash. He barely got any warning before he was thrown back into the wall with his hands pinned above his head. The position was uncomfortably familiar.

“You really are so naive,” he crooned, “to believe all of that, in hopes that you may hide from the truth.” He smirked knowingly, and there was less than an inch between their lips. His scent invaded Harry’s senses, something clean and sharp yet wholly wild, and he seemed to bear down on him. He wanted to be consumed. “It was never a  _ game _ . Not in the sense that I wanted to humiliate you, at least. I wonder if you can figure it out. But I won’t make it that easy for you, darling.

“You must decide.”

Suddenly, the intoxicating force of Tom disappeared, leaving only the chill of the winter air and the hope that his wrists bruised in the morning. He stood before Harry, just out a reach, with the cloak held loosely in his palm. 

“What shall it be, love?” He asked lowly. 

Harry looked at this boy, at all of him—the fine curl of his hair, the paleness of his skin, as white and pure as untouched snow, the cruel curve of his lips, the fineness of his brow, his hands, his shoulders—and his resolve hardened. Stepping forward, he pushed into Tom’s gravity like a wayward planet, now tethered to a star, to the centre of its universe, and wrapped his hand around the cloak.

“I don’t know,” he said.

And then, like a coward, he ran.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by [Sakuragane_San](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakuragane_San).

He ran to put space between him and Tom. First to get away from Tom, then to be alone to gather his thoughts. Which was why he did not go back to the Tower, but instead, he went upstairs to the seventh floor. That was where the Room of Requirement was, where things that were lost were, and where he was going to hide from the world. 

Falling backwards against the provided bed, he scrubbed his hands over his face. How was he going to justify running away from, from _him_ like that?! Shifting so that he laid spread-eagle face down on the bed, he let out a muffled scream into the pillows. Then he laid there for a few more moments. 

A few more moments turned into an hour, and soon he fell asleep. He woke up to faint pacing from behind the door. Sitting up, Harry debated whether to open the door or not. Either way, he was hungry, and staying in the Room would mean staying hungry. 

Smoothing down his uniform and roughly combing through his hair, he made to open the door. However, the muffled sounds caused him to pause. The person on the other side sounded masculine, so Harry mentally started crossing who it could have been. The girls were out of the question, and of the boys, not many knew of the Room. He had not shared the existence of the Room with anyone, so it would make sense that the other students who stumbled across the Room would not either. Anyhow, the question was, to open the door or not. 

Sighing, Harry wrenched the door open. He could deal with the fallout anyhow. However, that did not prepare him for _who_ was on the other side. Tall, tousled dark brown hair, Slytherin tie, and a Prefect badge—

“You!” 

The other student stopped pacing and lifted his head. 

“Me.” A pause, then, “So this is where you ran. Funny meeting you here. Do you mind stepping out for a moment while I use the Room?”

Harry thought Tom looked odd as he asked his question. It was as if he ate something funny and it was messing with his ability to function normally. Harry cocked his head to the side, scrutinizing Tom. 

“You. Want the Room. And. You want me to go away? While you do your thing in there? How do you even know of the Room of Requirement anyway?” 

Harry emphasized his point by jabbing a finger at the Slytherin’s chest. Tom was staying suspiciously silent, and there was an odd flush to his cheeks like he was active recently or maybe he was just cold. The cold temperature would make sense, seeing as the Prefect was not wearing anything warm aside from the House scarf. Yet why was he not willing to meet his eyes? Harry wondered, and awkwardly removed his hand from the other’s body. Stiffly, he patted himself down and turned to leave as requested when a hand stopped him. 

A soft cough broke him out of his reverie and he turned back to face Tom. 

“Yes?”

“Actually, I have something to show you, in the Room. Can we?” He was still loosely holding Harry’s hand and Harry let it stay there. Holding hands were preferable to kissing. 

Harry was not sure if he heard correctly. Head Student Tom Riddle, asking if he could show something to him. Harry brought a hand up to pinch Tom’s cheek, to determine if he was in a dream or not. Tom winced. Ah, so it was _not_ a dream. 

“Can we?” Tom asked again. 

Harry nodded numbly and turned back to the entrance of the Room. He went back in with Tom _still_ holding on to his hand. He was so aware of Tom’s _hand_ on _his_ hand that he failed to notice the Room growing an entrance curb. Of course, he tripped on it and as the two were connected, Tom came tumbling down with him. 

Together, they laid there in a tangled heap, neither sure of what to do. A few minutes later, when the cold of the castle floor started seeping into them, they hastily untangled themselves and got up. Tom dusted off his uniform and frowned at him. Harry simply looked away, rubbing his hands to generate warmth. A whisper from Tom and Harry felt heat warm up his hands. He made a sound of gratitude and then they fell silent. 

When the silence grew uncomfortable, Tom spoke. 

“I have something to show you. For you. Yeah, something for you.”

That was odd. Tom did not stammer or trip over his words. He spoke with confidence and charm, not this. Harry nodded mutely, like earlier. It appeared that Tom acting out of the ordinary was still affecting his ability to function. 

“Ah, so, one moment—” Here Tom waved his wand in a few intricate patterns while murmuring under his breath. A white mist began to form from his wand tip, gradually gaining colour and definite form. The item was not large by any means, it was more like a delicate-looking piece of jewellery. A simple gold amulet inlaid with green gems hanging on a fine loop of gold-metal thread. 

Gingerly, he took it from where it was floating in the air. Glancing at the other boy, he admired the amulet. Tom still looked faintly flushed but it should not be from the cold: the Room provided more than enough heating to keep them warm. Could it be? Harry unlocked the clasp and looking at Tom, he held it out to him, hoping his intentions were clear in his eyes. 

“You… want me to put it on you?” he asked quietly, grasping the amulet in one hand and motioning to him with the other. 

Harry swallowed and nodded. It felt like he was doing a lot of nodding today. He held his breath as Tom moved closer, arms reaching behind his neck to fasten the clasp. Harry could feel the heat from the Slytherin’s hands near his neck and shoulders. The hands slowly trailed down and they rested by his amulet, in the center of his chest. They stood there quietly, touching but not quite touching, enjoying their little moment. 

Suddenly they heard a thud coming from the doorway and their heads snapped over to see what happened. Lying in a dead faint in the hallway was a student with ginger-red hair. Ron Weasley had caught Tom _Riddle_ and Harry _Potter_ in an amiable, and even _loving_ , embrace! The sight would do anyone in.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by [NeuroWriter14](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeuroWriter14).

The amulet hung loosely around his neck, swaying slightly where it hung, but Harry was statue still. Still, because he truly did not know what to do. And how could he possibly? He and Tom were consistently at odds with one another and the moment either of them let their guard down, they were caught by another. Harry barely had time to fully comprehend what Tom had given him and the fact that Tom had given him anything in the first place. It was odd in and of itself. And then Ron appeared out of the corner of his eye and the moment Harry looked at him, he could see that the feeling of strangeness was one someone else reflected as well. 

Ron didn’t stay though, bowing out gracefully as he could after finding Tom and Harry more than a breath away from each other and very obviously sharing a sweet moment. 

Or what would have been a sweet moment if it wasn’t so odd. 

Harry found himself turning his head slowly to look back down at the amulet, not even noticing at first how intricate it was, but focusing on it completely to try to ignore Tom, still incredibly close to him and his handsome face flamed red. It was an odd sight to see, but Harry forced himself to focus on the amulet. 

It should have been a simple gold amulet inlaid with emeralds, the same color as his eyes. But as he watched, the amulet shifted under his attentions, turning into an “H” and then shifting once more. 

“It’s-“ The suddenly, strangely awkward Tom said, stepping back. “It’s magic. It will change based on your mood.” 

“My mood?” Harry asked. 

“The longer you wear it, the more attuned to you it will be. Eventually, every shift in your mood will reveal a new face of the amulet.” 

“So-“ He began slowly, finding Tom’s eyes above him. “Say I was feeling embarrassed?” 

“I suppose it would find some way to portray that.” Tom made to take a step back. 

But Harry wasn’t one to lack bravery. He was impulsive and brave and ultimately it was the way he tried to reason with himself as to why he stepped forward when the other moved away. Tom stepped back again, not as large a step this time, and Harry stepped forward once more. 

The other’s dark eyes flashed and Harry knew the Tom he knew was back once again. 

“Something else you’re wondering about, Harry?” Tom asked, his voice taking on a more confident tone, even if Harry knew it was fake. 

“Yes,” He forced himself to swallow his embarrassment, to swallow every emotion other than the one that focused solely on Tom in front of him. 

He hated Tom Riddle. He hated how smart he was. He hated how handsome he was. He hated how easily Tom could win over professors and students, how that damned charming smile of his could make people swoon. He hated how much of an effect Tom had on him, ever since they first met years ago. He hated that Tom had a soft side that was aimed at Harry because it was genuinely terrible to want someone who he never thought wanted him back. He hated his cheekbones, his wavy hair. He hated his long, piano-player fingers. He hated the way Tom would shift his quill between his fingers when he was too deep in thought. He hated the way his hand raced into the air at questions between heartbeats. He hated the way Tom’s eyes watched him so closely when they were younger and just how much worse those dark eyes felt now. 

He hated him because he was absolutely certain it wasn’t hatred at all. 

Tom’s lips parted as he watched Harry. There had always been a height difference between the two of them, but for once, it felt as though Tom was the small one. 

“Harry,” He began quietly, the fake confidence gone. “Come back. Tonight I mean.”

“Back?” Harry asked, suddenly confused. 

“Yes. I think you should leave now. I’m not quite done with what I wanted to show you.” Tom looked around at the Room of Requirement, the walls, and floor bare. It looked no different than a simple classroom, but Harry knew that look in those dark eyes. Tom had an idea and Harry’s refusal to leave previously had caused him to abandon part of his plan. 

Maybe it was their proximity, or lack thereof, that made Tom want to finish his idea. Make the plan he had so carefully put together become reality. And for once, Harry was willing to listen. He was endlessly stubborn, he knew that. But he was also too curious as to what Tom Riddle of all people had planned for him. 

So, rather than fight, he nodded. “Ok, Tom.” 

The other looked surprised at Harry’s sudden acceptance, but he didn’t argue. 

He turned on his heel and left, glad to leave Tom staring after him.

The rest of the day was spent in a strange sort of suspension. He knew people whispered around him, and while he didn’t think Ron of all people turned around to gossip, he knew that someone else had probably seen his embrace with Tom previously. There were very few secrets in his life. 

Day faded into night.

Harry watched the sunset in the distance, the last tendrils of light fade from the world like retracting fingers. He readied himself mentally for anything that could come out of his return to Tom’s presence, even a cruel prank, but he didn’t think it would go that way. He remembered the shy look in Tom’s dark eyes as he gave him the amulet, the way Tom’s words had fallen over themselves as he created it and wrapped the chain around Harry’s neck. He remembered the heat of the other’s fingers as they worked on the clasp and the strange way Tom didn’t truly want to leave his space. 

This wasn’t cruelty that Tom wanted to show him.

Maybe, after all this time, they were finally on the same page. Maybe, all it had taken was this one, simple amulet and the strangeness of their shared experience to drag them into a relatively neutral zone. Where it would go from here was dependent on what Harry would find when he returned to the Room of Requirement. 

He trudged through the castle, ignoring the stares and whispers as best he could until he made it to the strangely vacant seventh floor. 

Or what should be vacant if not for Tom and his pacing. 

The other looked more collected than the shy, nervous, stuttering person who had given Harry the amulet. They hadn’t been apart for long, a couple of hours at most but Tom was a different person. Or rather, he was the same person once more. The one Harry always knew. The charming, charismatic Slytherin prefect. 

His eyes focused on Harry as he neared, his lips parting as he let out a small breath. 

“You came back,” Tom said lowly as Harry neared. “I didn’t think you would come back.” 

“I wasn’t certain I would either,” Harry answered honestly. “But here I am.”

“Here you are,” Tom breathed quietly, seeming almost awed. Then, after a moment, he stuck his hand out for Harry to take. “Come with me then.” The other smiled in that damned way that Harry hated. 

He didn’t take the other’s hand though, stepping forward and then past him to the door that Tom’s pacing had been blocking. 

“Are you coming?” He asked over his shoulder, feeling the smile that Tom offered in return. 

He didn’t make it through the door though, as Tom stopped him the moment his hand touched the nob. He looked up at the other, watching as a small, smug smile overtook the other’s lips. Then, his dark eyes flicked upward. 

Harry followed the other’s gaze and much to his — horror? excitement? — found mistletoe hanging just above their heads in the entryway. 

“Don’t tell me you hate tradition, Harry?” Tom asked softly. 

“You kidding?” Harry forced himself to say. It was his turn to feign confidence now as he stuck his chin upward, forcing his face closer to Tom’s. “Who doesn’t love tradition?”

Tom was on him then, their lips colliding in the entryway. Harry froze at first and then found himself returning the kiss, shifting forward to meet Tom’s gentle touch. The other pressed his hand to Harry’s cheek, caressing his face as they pulled apart much slower than they had initiated the kiss. Harry could still feel the ghost of Tom’s lips on his as his face began to flame. Anyone could appear, they could be caught all over again. 

He turned away from Tom, shyly hiding a blush he knew the other knew he had, and glanced down at the amulet hanging loosely from his neck. 

Instead of an “H,” the emeralds were now arranged in a “T.” 

“Would you like to see what I have to show you?” Tom asked softly. 

“Yes,” Harry answered quietly. 

Tom offered his hand once more and this time, Harry took it. Tom’s other hand landed on the handle and turned. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by [TheLadyGia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyGia/pseuds/TheLadyGia).

Harry tried to have no expectations for whatever Tom had done with the Room of Requirement, but that was impossible. He’d seen Tom’s ingenuity firsthand enough times in various classes to know that whatever the dark-haired boy had planned would be beyond Harry’s imagination. 

Still, the scene Harry saw when Tom opened the door took his breath away. He inhaled sharply through his nose, stunned at the awe-inspiring sight of a winter wonderland world spread out beneath their feet. He could make out individual houses in the village below, fairy lights adorning the exteriors of the cozy buildings while the outlines of ornamented pine trees shone through the translucent windows. Harry tapped his foot on the clear surface under his feet, understanding right then that Tom had designed the floor to be see-through but still hold them aloft.

He tore his eyes away from the village with reluctance, but his curiosity demanded he take in the rest of the room--or rather, area. As Harry turned his head to look for the room’s boundaries, he couldn’t find any. There weren’t walled-in limits up here. Instead, the clear floor extended out and connected to tree trucks that had seemingly grown up and through the flooring and now served to anchor this bird’s eye view of the village. 

The mountainous evergreens were wreathed in glittering tinsel and miniature quaffles were strung along the branches. Harry chuckled under his breath as he saw tiny bludgers whirring in between the branches, popping out and back in with a flurry of needles falling off in their wake. Snitches with fluttering wings buzzed around the tree as well, occasionally taking the chance to rest, wings-extended, on an undecorated bough. Harry’s laugh transformed from a quiet chuckle to a roar of mirth when he saw the broom-riding chimera that topped the nearest tree. The snake tail was resting on the lion torso’s shoulder, and the body was sporting a Hogwarts quidditch jersey. The trees were taking on a flocked look as snowflakes drifted down from above, finishing the scene and wreathing both the upper deck and the lower village in a blanket of fresh snow.

It was maybe the most incredible thing Harry had ever seen.

Harry hadn’t even realized he had moved far enough into the room while taking in the sights for Tom to close the door and trail behind him, letting a soft and satisfied smile settle on his face as he watched Harry’s eyes light up in delight. Tom’s smile became even fonder as he spotted the face of Harry’s golden amulet ripple as the stones rearranged themselves to better-represent his joy at their surroundings. 

Eyes shining in excitement, Harry turned back to the brown-hair boy awaiting his reaction. “Tom, thank you,” Harry said earnestly, his cheeks flushed from both the chilly air swirling around them and how flattered he felt that Tom had dreamed up all of this to share with  _ Harry _ . 

“This is,” he broke off, not wanting to risk his voice cracking in the face of Tom’s thoughtfulness. Even then, he couldn’t look away from Tom’s handsome face, his wavy hair pushed back and making the angles of his aristocratic face stand in sharper relief than usual. Tom’s dark eyes were filled with something suspiciously like hope as he waited for Harry to continue, and the soft, slightly encouraging smile Tom sent him made Harry’s chest ache.

Harry thought of the dueling books, Honeydukes confections, and broom polish that his friends usually gifted him for Christmas. Gifts that, while thoughtful and useful, lacked the extreme effort and deeper knowledge of his preferences that made Tom’s earlier gift and tonight’s rendezvous so special.

He could picture Ron and his brother’s decked out in handmade sweaters embroidered with designs emblematic of their personalities, Hermione’s bright eyes and toothy grins when she returned from winter breaks bursting with stories of ski trips to France with her parents and sitting around a crackling fire reading  A Christmas Carol aloud. For years he had secretly envied his best friends’ having family who made their holidays so special, but he would never want to intrude even if they offered. Still, seeing what Tom had created for them, for him, Harry finally felt like he understood why Ron and Hermione looked forward to Christmas with so much anticipation.

_ This was _ , Harry thought,  _ so much more than I could have imagined, than I deserve. The best Christmas present anyone’s ever given me. So out of character, or at least, _ he realized with widened eyes and tingling fingers,  _ out of character for Tom to do for  _ **_anyone else_ ** _.  _

Years’ worth of images passed through Harry’s mind in an instant. Looking up time and time again to find Tom’s eyes on him from across the classroom or the Great Hall. Seeing Tom in the quidditch stands, sitting there with clenched fists and focused gaze following Harry as he tucked into dangerous dives in search of the snitch, not even bothering to watch the rest of the match. The brush of Tom’s shoulder as they passed in the corridors, not aggressive like Harry had thought, just seeking contact. The taunts on his lips as they battled for the top spot in Defense, provoking Harry and riling him up the way no one else did, could. The satisfaction on his face every time Harry focused his attention on Tom, regardless of whether it was fond or frustrated.

Determination welled up in Harry’s lungs making him feel almost out of breath, but he took another step towards Tom anyway. He was now close enough to see each of Tom’s long  eyelashes individually, to watch nervousness and a familiar emotion that Harry could now recognize as attraction battle in Tom’s eyes. 

Harry lifted a hand to cup Tom’s jaw. Tom inhaled shakily as Harry’s thumb began to stroke his cheek. “This is  _ perfect _ ,” Harry whispered. He didn’t know what Tom saw in his eyes, but whatever it was--gratitude, affection, longing, something more--made his lips turn up in a full, toothy smile that made Harry’s knees weaker than he’d ever admit. Tom leaned down slightly to press their foreheads together. His burnt umber eyes shone with happiness and a touch of triumph as he simply responded, “Merry Christmas, Harry.”

Harry could feel Tom’s exhale on his face, the subtle hint of peppermint on his breath. In unspoken agreement, their eyes closed and they leaned in, lips meeting as they came together amidst the snowfall.

Tom’s hands settled on Harry’s waist as the fingers of Harry’s other hand curled into Tom’s hair while they kissed. This time their mouths moved slower, sweeter. Here, floating above the village, there was no frantic clash of teeth and tongue. That could come later in shadowed alcoves and maybe under the Potter Family invisibility cloak if they were feeling risky. For now, Harry and Tom didn’t have to worry about curfew or who would see them or what the Hogwarts rumor mill would say about a relationship between the Slytherin prefect and the Gryffindor quidditch captain. Instead, they reveled in the privacy and allowed themselves to take their time, mapping out the other’s mouths and learning what made Harry groan, what made Tom unconsciously tighten his grasp on Harry’s hips.

Neither boy could see it, but as they embraced, Harry’s amulet shifted to display the outline of two hands, one with the long, elegant fingers of a pianist and the other with the rougher, calloused look of an athlete, collectively holding a heart in their palms.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by [wolf antlers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_adventures/pseuds/wolf%20antlers).

All too soon, they had to pop their wintery bubble and return to reality. The solace they’d found within one another was shattered the moment they walked out of the heavy, ornate doors of the Room of Requirement.

It almost felt like a dream, and Harry loathed to wake up, to remember the life they both had as individuals, as a Slytherin and Gryffindor, kept apart by the petrification lockdown the school was in for the time being.

Harry stopped outside the door, taking a long moment to ground himself again. The dancing trolls in the painting directly across from him were wearing bizarre hats, and Harry stared at them blankly, watching them fall about as they retried the never-ending routine once more.

“Are you okay?” Tom asked, his head tilted endearingly. Harry shook himself out of his stupor, his recent memories he never wanted to forget, and smiled, meeting Tom’s dark, beautiful eyes.

“I’m fine, wonderful even.” He stretched his hand out to Tom, who took it like he couldn’t believe Harry would offer such a thing. Tom never expected affection, as willingly as he offered it to Harry. He found it endearing at this point, for as long as they’d known each other, the surprise on Tom’s face when Harry asked him about his day or expressed his concern was enough to make Harry fall in love all over again. “I’m just—” He paused, glancing down the hall, looking at the wreaths and the enchanted snow flitting down from the eaves, the pixies dancing up and down in their seasonal excitement. “I’m really happy. Thank you.” It was almost startling to realize it's true. His stomach was twisting with butterflies and his fingers tingled in Tom’s, like a million tiny pinpricks. And he wanted to feel like that forever, to stay with Tom, to be  _ with  _ Tom.

They knew each other better than Ron and Hermione knew Harry, and having someone who’d gone through the pain, the suffering, the  _ abuse _ they’d both taken from the hands of those which they were supposed to trust was… Merlin, that connection, the ability to understand each other, it was better than Harry could’ve ever dreamed when he entered the wizarding world, when he learned of his heritage, of his family. And to have someone else who  _ knew _ what that was like, to be there with him—

Harry let out a shaky breath, forcing himself out of the sudden sobriety which hit him like Aunt Petunia’s frying pan.

The amulet hung heavy around his neck, a constant reminder of Tom, of their relationship. Harry grabbed it with his empty hand, cradling the cool, metal against his heated skin. The image on it changed before his eyes, from two hands and a heart, which he hadn’t noticed before, to a chimera, a long, winding snake, and a proud, elegant lion standing tall, their individual beings stronger together, becoming one. 

An amalgamation of their love.

Harry let Tom lead him down the hall, to the twisting and sentient staircases, at which they would part for the day. Harry would nestle himself in the warmth of Gryffindor reds and Tom would return to the coolness  of Slytherin’s green, where they would keep their secrets and memories safe until they saw each other again. And Harry would long for it the moment their fingers untangled.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is the brainchild of the [Room of Requirement Discord](https://discord.gg/W55phXS) and our Round Robin event. We hope you enjoy and feel free to come join us if you haven't already!


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